


(we're not) symbols of human failure

by keptein



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Blind Roy, Canon Disabled Character, Identity Porn, Lawyers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-27
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-22 19:02:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2518478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keptein/pseuds/keptein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ed thinks it would be much easier to moonlight as a superhero if the government would stop suing him; he's getting sick of Roy Mustang darkening his doorstep. For his part, Roy would love it if Ed stopped making fun of both of his identities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "consider: roy mustang as a blind superhero," one of us said, and it went from there. thanks a bunch to [zooks](http://roymeowstang.tumblr.com) for sacrificing her sunday night and betaing this. lastly - this fic contains northern slang, and there's a key in the end notes if you're completely lost.

“Not _you_!” Ed tugged at his restraints, making faces at the shadow cutting a dramatic figure in the doorway.

“Again, Fullmetal?” Ed didn’t need to see his mouth to know he was smirking because practically dripped from the man’s words. Ed let out a noise of frustration and stuck his hands out, waiting impatiently as the ropes keeping his palms apart went up in flames.

“You don’t look as cool as you think you do, Cinderella,” he informed the man as he stood up, and a fire rose behind him, illuminating Cinder Flame for a brief second before the room fell back into darkness.

“Liar,” Cinder Flame said with amusement, and Ed harrumphed.

“Are the guys outside? Did you kill them?”

“Yes,” Cinder Flame said, and waited for Ed’s teeth to grind before he continued, “and no. They’re just unconscious, though I doubt their lungs will ever recover.”

Ed shook his head. “Damn it, I wanted to get them to talk before the police arrived - do you ever do anything right?”

“They didn’t tie me up -”

“It’s only happened twice, and I’ve saved your ass so many times I’ve lost count, so don’t -”

“However,” Cinder Flame said pointedly, and waited for Ed to simmer down, “I think one of them might still be able to talk. The back-up will be here in five minutes.”

“You’re a bastard,” Ed said, and went to interrogate the last of the would-be bombers.

**

“He’s a bastard.” Ed stormed into the lab, throwing himself dramatically onto their couch. Al watched patiently as his brother sighed, scowled, and stood up again, throwing off his red cloak and hood before crumpling it into a ball.

“I thought we agreed that you should take that off _before_ coming home?” he said, and Ed scowled at him. “You know, what with it being bright red and you wanting to keep your identity secret and all.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Ed grumbled. “Aren’t you supposed to ask me who the bastard is?”

“Let me guess, Cinder Flame did something you don’t approve of again?” Al asked, busying himself by cleaning test tubes. “I don’t really care that much, brother. I don’t see why you do.”

Ed loved Al, he did, but sometimes he just _didn’t get it._ Cinder Flame didn’t deserve Al taking his side, even passively - he had a responsiblity to the people, just like Ed did, and his unreasonable, cocky, _murdering_ ways were definitely not upholding those responsibilities.  “Because - people look up to him! And he can’t just go around burning everyone to a crisp when we need information! First, he’s all smug like some kind of pervert because I’m tied up -”

“Oh, dear.”

“- and _then_ he’s gone and burned up most of the lackeys, and the only one that could talk wouldn’t. How the hell am I supposed to tackle the big fish if he goes around killing the small fries!?”

“Well, _you’re_ not dead yet.” Ouch. Ed shot his brother a glare, metal fist clenching at his side. Al beamed innocently, and Ed huffed.

“If you weren’t my brother _you_ definitely would be, asshole.”

“I know, but I am!” Al replied cheerily, and then tossed Ed a shirt with long sleeves. Ed caught it sullenly, but missed the gloves that were hurled at his face two seconds later. “Put those on.”

“Ugh, _why_? Who’s coming?”

“Mustang.”

“I’m being sued _again_?”

Al rolled his eyes. “Why do you always sound so surprised? He’s around almost weekly these days.”

“Because I’m ‘naive’, Al,” Ed replied, fingers making air quotes. “I keep thinking that the government will let me use _my own brain_ as I wish, but apparently that’s ‘unrealistic’. I hate that guy.”

“No, you don’t.”

Ed flushed; Al could read him way too well sometimes. It made him glad that they’d always been close; he would have made a formidable arch-nemesis. “Yeah, well,” he muttered. “I hate Cinderella, though. Seriously, I can’t _believe_ him, where does he get off on ruining every bust, the _nerve_ -”

“What a terrible man,” Al said, and Ed narrowed his eyes.

“If you’re just going to make fun of me, you might as well stay quiet.”

Al raised his eyebrows and looked towards the front door, and Ed sighed.

“Fine. I’ll go change. Make some coffee, would you? Not enough for three cups!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Al said, and started to clear a space on the table.

**

Roy Mustang stood in the doorway in an impeccable dark suit, holding his cane so it looked more like an accessory than a necessity. “Mr. Elric,” he said, smirking.

Ed _hated_ him, no matter what Al said. “Don’t pretend like you know which one of us is here,” he snapped, but Mustang’s smirk only widened.

“Ed,” Al scolded, “be nice. Mr. Mustang, there is a cup of coffee for you on the table if you’d like - nothing’s been moved around.”

“Thank you,” Mustang said, and walked straight to the table as if this were his own home. Ed fumed.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

Mustang didn’t stop the sip of coffee he’d just started, just let it go on and on, and Ed grew redder and redder until Al said, warningly, “Brother -”

Mustang sat the cup back down and moved his head in Ed’s general direction. “I don’t believe you don’t know why I’m here. If you abandoned your quest for making an enemy of the government, you would never have to see me again.”

Apparently being blind didn’t stop you from being a smug jackass. Roy Mustang had been a pain in Ed’s backside ever since he’d published his damn thesis, and Ed didn’t give a damn that it was on the government’s behalf - it felt like every little mistake Ed made, Roy was there, ready to sue him into an early grave. “It’s not like I do it on purpose!” Ed said. Mustang raised his eyebrows. “Most of the time, anyway.”

“I don’t know if arguing that you infringed their copyright and publicly humiliated them by accident rather than on purpose would be a good idea,” Mustang said. “Nevertheless, feel free to defend your actions as you wish. I’m only here to inform you of the claims, dates and -”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ed said. “You have all the same papers as usual, right? I’ll sign them right now.”

“Brother -”

“Never sign a document without having your lawyer check it out first,” Mustang said, sipping his coffee.

“Fine,” Ed said through gritted teeth. “Do you have them? The _normal_ ones, not yours.”

“ _Brother_ -”

“I do,” Mustang said, and smoothly produced several sheets of paper which he laid out on the table. “Well, then, I’d best be on my way. Thank you for the coffee, Alphonse.”

“It was no trouble,” Alphonse replied while Ed skimmed the documents.

“So, how much are they charging me this time - _what?_ Three _thousand_ pounds? _Mustang_ -”

“Goodbye!” Mustang said cheerfully, and disappeared out the door.

“Wait, asshole!” Ed shouted after him, but the lawyer was already closing the door. Ed sighed, and turned to his brother, waving the papers in Al’s face. “This is why I hate the guy.”

“Nope,” Al enunciated, making Ed groan. “You don’t look that way at people you hate.”

“I can look however I want at people who can’t see me!”

“Mmhmm,” Al replied, and Ed could only be grateful that he’d at least seemed to drop the subject. “Have you ever thought about having him defend you, though?”

“I can defend myself, Al! What makes you think I can’t?” He hesitated, eyes drifting back to the large ‘£3000’ emblazoned in red letters. “Besides, it’s not like we can afford him anyway. Mr. Bigshot Lawyer charges a fortune; that’s why he’s so happy making me miserable.”

“I don’t think he’s happy about _that_ , brother…” Al smirked mischievously. “Besides, I’m sure you could persuade him to give you a discount.”

“Will you shut the hell up and get back to work!?” Ed shouted. Al laughed, but didn’t say anything more. “We should probably start working on some kind of nullifier, considering the amount of remote bombs I’ve had to deal with lately. From the way nobody’s talking, we’ve got to assume they’re up to something, you know?”

**

Opening the door to his flat, Roy wasn’t met with the darkness he had expected - the room was as light as the hallway had been, though he couldn’t discern any more than that. “Welcome home!” Riza called immediately. He placed his briefcase down against the wall and turned towards the sound of her voice with a fond smile.

“You are aware that you stopped being my roommate two years ago, aren’t you? I’m fairly certain you have your own apartment. In fact, I know that it’s upstairs.”

“You’d miss me if I wasn’t here,” she replied, stating facts rather than teasing. Roy conceded the point and gratefully accepted the coffee she placed in his hands.

“I can also make my own hot drinks now,” he told her, even as he took a long sip. “It’s funny how you adapt to being blind after...how long has it been? Ten years?”

“Seven,” Riza corrected. She knew Roy well enough not to give him time to muse on it, automatically steering him away from one of his moods. “Have you had dinner?”

“No. I can make my own dinner as well,” he said, “but I won’t stop you.”

“Oh, you’re helping,” she said, smiling. He followed her into the kitchen, set his cup on the table, and after a few guiding touches from Riza, started pulling out the necessary ingredients.

“How was your day?” he asked, filling up the kettle.

“I was on call,” she said as the loud sound of chopping filled the kitchen. “But I didn’t get called in.”

“Another thrilling day in Manchester,” Roy said. “Clearly the city’s superheroes are doing such a good job -”

The sound of chopping intensified. Roy could feel her piercing glare and flinched - he remembered with frightening accuracy the looks she was undoubtedly sporting, and just the memory was enough to make him jump. “Where’d you put your coffee cup?”

“Already put it in the dishwasher,” she said, and he retrieved his own to do the same. “I assume that means you were out this morning, then,” she continued after a pause, the chopped vegetables hitting a bowl. “I heard chatter about an explosion.”

“It was nothing,” Roy quickly reassured her, and she hummed.

“If it was nothing, why are you back so late? I didn’t think you were supposed to be at the office today; where have you been?”

“At the Elrics’,” Roy said. “I took another case; Edward is being sued again.”

“Why do you keep taking them? I thought you said he was insufferable.”

“They pay me a fortune just to get him to show up,” Roy said, “I don’t even have to win them.”

“I’d pay to see you lose,” she said, and he laughed.

“It would help if he actually hired a lawyer,” Roy said, “but he insists on representing himself.”

**

“You’re all being complete morons!” Ed banged his fist on the council table, ignoring Al’s tug on his sleeve. “It’s my brain, how can I help which parts of it I end up using? You don’t own me!”

“We do, however, own the research we funded,” Roy countered, and Ed gawped at him across the room, wishing he could wipe the smug smile off his face.

“I can’t believe you -” Ed stopped when the judge banged on her gavel, using her free hand to rub her temples. Ed recognised her from the last three times he’d been put in this position, and to be honest, he applauded her commitment. The last judges had requested never to be put in a room with them after just one case.

“Communicate through the court, please, gentlemen,” she said shortly. Roy cleared his throat as Ed scowled.

“The research _they_ funded was my first postgraduate project, Olivier - I mean, Your Honour,” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s really basic stuff - for me, anyway - and it’s pretty much impossible to do anything without referencing that as some kind of foundation. Not if I want people to actually understand what I’m doing.”

“I suggest, then, that you come to some form of arrangement,” Olivier told him, banging her gavel again. “Judgement to the plaintiff for the amount of £3,000. Case dismissed, and do _not_ let me see you back here again.”

“But Olivier -!”

“Get. Out.”

Al ushered Ed from the room, keeping a firm grip on his arm the whole way. Ed shook himself free once they were in the hallway, kicking at the floor with his boots. He cursed and Al gave him a placating look.

“You really do need to stop doing this, brother,” he told him with a soft smile. “Or, at the very least, get a judge that will call recess! I’m going to the bathroom.”

Ed made a face as Al set off down the hallway at a brisk, stilted pace, and leant against the wall with his arms folded. He straightened up when he saw Roy exiting the courtroom, waiting for him to shake hands with the other prosecutors - the bastards - before calling out to him.

“Hey.” Roy turned at the sound of his voice, blank eyes settling a little to the left of Ed’s face. “You happy now?”

Roy grimaced and gave a small shrug. “It doesn’t give me pleasure to see you go broke, Edward.”

“Of course not, because you can’t actually _see_ it, can you?” Ed retorted. Roy sighed, and Ed mentally kicked himself. He hadn’t meant to make the guy sad, damn it. It wasn’t his fault Roy gave him those kinds of openings.

“Regardless,” Roy said, “the sentiment remains. Maybe you should hire a better lawyer?”

Ed snorted. “Like hell! I don’t trust any of you.” He hesitated. ”Any recommendations?”

“Well, there aren’t that many better than me, but if you wanted to take a look at my prices, I’d consider it.”

“Seriously?” Ed asked. Roy looked almost taken aback by his sincerity, so he quickly backtracked, “I mean, I’m not interested. At all. But you would?”

“If I only worked the cases I believed in, I’d be worse off than you, Edward.”

Ed’s face darkened. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not interested then, right?”

“I didn’t mean yours.”

Ed paused and looked at him, eyes narrowing. “Okay,” he said slowly, watching him closely - for a blind man, Roy gave surprisingly little away.

They stood in stilted silence for a bit, Ed running calculations in his head, still looking at Roy from the corner of his eye. Finally, Roy started talking,

“So, it’s been a - “

“Hello again, Roy!” Al returned, stepping quickly to Ed’s side. “It’s not very fun with Armstrong for a judge, is it?”

Roy shook his head, smiling slightly. “She’s very to the point,” he said diplomatically.

“Yeah, to the point of stabbing someone,” Ed muttered, and Roy quickly masked his laugh with a cough while Al looked around nervously.

“Careful, she might find out you said that, she has eyes _everywhere_ ,” Al said, then looked over at Roy and startled. “Oh, Roy, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Roy said easily and gestured with his cane. “I should probably be on my way.”

“I’m sure we’ll meet again soon,” Al said.

“Hopefully under better circumstances,” Roy replied as he started to walk. “Do think about my offer, Edward.”

“I won’t!” Ed yelled after him, but that didn’t stop Al from turning to him as soon as Roy was out of earshot.

“What offer?”

“Nowt,” Ed said quickly. “Boring lawyer stuff, yadda yadda yadda. You know how he is. Also, since how long have you called him _‘Roy’?”_

“I’m polite,” Al said, “something you don’t care about - how long have _you_ called him ‘Roy’?”

“I don’t - he’s a bellend, I don’t like him,” he said quickly. “His last name is too cool for him, is all.”

“Only you would think ‘Mustang’ is a cool last name,” Al said with a sigh, and started steering them towards the exit.

**

Roy felt a rush of air on his left side and sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the attack aimed at his abdomen. Following the movement, he extended his arm to where his assailant had paused, breathing heavily. Snapping his fingers, he waited for the sound to echo back to him before he smirked. “Got you,” he murmured, sending fire towards the enemy and waiting for the moment it would hit his target.

He frowned when there wasn’t a scream to confirm his success.

“Hey, asshole!” Another voice came from the direction he had sent the flame. “Don’t kill these guys - we need information.”

“Did you honestly just save the man who was trying to bury this lock-up?” Roy asked, astounded. “Do you know how many people will die if they succeed?”

“Well, we’re here now, aren’t we?” Fullmetal retorted, and Roy rolled his eyes behind the mask. “Look, Cinderella, there have been two incidents in the last two weeks. Don’t you think it might be a good idea to see if they can actually tell us something?”

Roy had to swallow his reply when he heard a sound behind him, quickly snapping his fingers to discover that the other assailant (there were only two, he was sure, but it didn’t hurt to have Fullmetal backing him up to confirm it) was attempting to catch him off-guard. This time he aimed his fire slightly off target - enough to singe, but not to do any serious damage.

“I have to tell you, it’s fairly difficult to use powers like mine non-violently.”

“You’d better let me take over, then.”

Roy felt the ground begin to tremble beneath him, and quickly moved to stand behind Fullmetal. The first time he’d felt Fullmetal use his powers, he had thought he’d been caught in a freak earthquake - it hadn’t been until Riza had read the reports to him that he had realised Fullmetal was more than a metal-limbed vigilante.

“If you can handle it,” Roy teased. “Last time, I seem to remember you being quite the damsel in distress.”

The ground seemed to shake particularly violently at that, and Roy couldn’t help his grin. Fullmetal was so expressive that it didn’t matter that he couldn’t see him - Roy was never left wondering how he felt.

“I would have been fine!” Fullmetal yelled between breaths, and Roy heard the knock of metal on bone. He stood back, wanting to join the fight but unable to take the risk of hurting Fullmetal - he fought at high speeds, and Roy wasn’t sure he would be able to detect their movements in time. He looked up sharply when he heard the sound of ribs cracking, and Fullmetal called to him hoarsely.

“Get the other guy!”

Roy reacted on instinct, running in a random direction as the earth began to shake again, before gathering his wits and snapping his fingers. The sound bounced off the nearby buildings, lost in the earth’s vibrations, and Roy cursed. When the shaking finally stopped, Roy turned towards the sound of Fullmetal’s uneven footsteps.

“You let him get away!” Fullmetal shouted, still breathing heavy. “Why the hell would you let him get away?”

“I’m sorry,” Roy said, feeling useless and _hating it,_ “he was too fast.”

“Well,” Fullmetal said with a sigh, “I guess his looks explain that. I can’t believe you just lost to a guy who’s, like, half-chimpanzee or something.”

What.

“Right…” Roy said, uncertain. It was at times like this that he thought he ought to be more open about his blindness in this persona; it would save him from so many awkward moments.

“I mean, what are we fighting, a zoo?” Fullmetal continued, “at least we caught the lion guy, though. We can interrogate him while we’re here.”

 _What._ The sound of sirens saved him from having to come up with a suitable response.

“Sounds like the interrogation is going to take place at the police station instead, Fullmetal,” Roy said. He snapped his fingers subtly, feeling out where Fullmetal had detained the criminal who was apparently also part lion and called to him. “I’d be careful if I were you. Cops don’t look kindly on those who endanger their comrades’ lives.”

The criminal sniffed in disdain. “Like it matters. Kimblee will have me out before the day’s up, I guarantee it.”

“Who’s -” Roy began, but was interrupted when the police car entered the alleyway, engine cutting off. The police had mixed reactions to superhero work, and he didn’t want to stick around to see whether or not they’d be friendly. Turning to leave, he almost tripped over Fullmetal, stopping just as his knees came into contact with shoulders.

_He’s on the ground? Is he hurt?_

“What are you doing?” Roy asked, angling his head downward. He heard Fullmetal’s sharp intake of breath, and leant backwards just in time to avoid being hit in the chin when the superhero stood up fully.

“I thought I saw something…” Fullmetal began, and then seemed to backtrack. “But it’s none of your business!” Hearing the sound of the police drawing closer, they ducked into a corner of the alley, Fullmetal’s hand on his arm to keep them both out of sight.

“You don’t want to work together on this?” Roy asked quietly. He could feel Fullmetal’s face close to his own, and the opportunity was too good to miss. He moved quickly, placing a hand on the other superhero’s knee. “If you share your findings with me, we might be able to discuss mine over coffee.”

“I - shut up, Cinderella!” Fullmetal said, shoving at Roy so he had to struggle to maintain his balance. Roy could tell he was flustered, and counted it as a point, imagining that Fullmetal was probably blushing. “I don’t work with killers.”

Well, that dampened the mood somewhat. “Alright,” Roy said, for lack of a better response, and moved away from Fullmetal. He was tired of defending his actions, and even though he admired Fullmetal’s resolve, he’d long since stopped being so naive. “I suppose I’ll just see you the next time, then. If this ‘Kimblee’ is powerful enough to break a bomber out of jail, then I can’t imagine it will be too long.”

**

“... so that’s what I’ve been up to,” Ed said, and Winry hit him with a rolled-up newspaper. “I’m not a _dog!”_

“You’re as stupid as one,” she said, shaking her head. “Chasing bombers? In _Manchester?”_

“Someone has to,” Ed said, “someone has to stop them.”

“I know,” Winry sighed, then started rolling up her sleeves. “You asked me here for my opinion on something, right? Where is it?”

“And also we haven’t seen you in ages,” Al added, and her smile brightened. Ed went to fetch the tiny wiring he’d squirreled away from the crime scene.

“We had some questions about this,” he said, and placed the bundle on the table in front of her - Winry looked momentarily disappointed by the size of it, then her expression turned to intrigued as she studied it.

“You stole this, didn’t you?”

 _“Reappropriated,”_ Ed stressed. “For the good of the country!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, “hand me my microscope, one of you, and stop blabbering - I need to concentrate.”

“Blabbering,” Ed muttered disbelievingly, and after Al handed her the microscope, they went into the kitchen to give Winry the silence she needed to work.

“She’s right about some of it,” Al said as he opened tins of cat food, propped open the window and put them on the windowsill. “You’ve been out so often lately, I’m afraid you’ll fall asleep over a vat full of acid one of these days.”

“Can’t exactly take a break in the middle of it, now, can I?” Ed replied, grabbing this opportunity to make himself a sandwich. “Kimblee, or whatever his name was, is still out there. I need to stop him. Easy as that.”

“Cinder Flame could handle it for one night, couldn’t he?”

“I don’t trust him,” Ed said through a mouthful of food. “You know his mask covers his eyes, right? Creepy as hell - I don’t know how the guy sees through that.”

“Yeah,” Al said, sighing, “I know. You’ve told me.”

Ed nodded as if that proved his point. “And anyway,” he continued after a big bite, “Cinder always gets wrong when I’m not there.”

Al hmmed and changed the order of the cat food.

“And he suggested we _work together,”_ Ed said, “as if I’d ever work with him!”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing already?” Al pointed out, and Ed gave him a dirty look.

“Not _working_ working,” he said, gesturing with his sandwich. “He said we should ‘share our findings’, did I tell you that?”

“Yes,” Al said. “In detail.”

“What a creep,” Ed said.

“Maybe he doesn’t have any other superhero friends,” Al said diplomatically, petting the third cat to jump on the windowsill. “Maybe he’s lonely.”

Ed snorted. “No, he’s just -”

 _“I’ve got it!”_ Winry shouted, and Ed stuffed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth and said,

“You’d better close that window, I don’t want your flea carriers around my lab -”

“I will, when they’ve eaten,” Al said, but closed the kitchen door after them to appease him.

“I don’t know why I didn’t see it immediately, it’s not a hard design,” Winry said once they got back. “I’m pretty sure it’s part of a Bradley bomb, or something that mimics the same effect.”

“Are they still being made?” Al asked, frowning.

“Not as far as I know,” Winry said, “which is interesting - from what you describe, Ed, I’d say there have been clear improvements to the impact radius, which is why it went out of use in the first place, but the main layout of it should be the same.”

Ed had gone quiet, still studying the wiring. “Bradley. That’s a military bomb, right? How could he be getting hold of them?”

“Well, there’s a lot of military equipment on the black market, if you know where to look,” Winry offered, and added at Ed’s alarmed glare, “not that I do know! That’s not something I go near. Ever. But if I did, I’d tell you that I hadn’t seen one of these around.”

“So he’s getting them directly from the military?” Ed asked, frowning.

“That doesn’t mean they’re giving them to him,” Al tried to reassure him. “He could be stealing them. We don’t even know who he is.”

“Or she,” Winry offered, “What? Master criminals can be women too, you know. I could have been your nemesis, Ed.”

“Aren’t I lucky I know so many terrifying people…” Ed grumbled.

“He - or she - could have an inside seller, too,” Al continued, “how much would they go for if you did see one, Winry?”

“A lot,” she said. “Old military equipment is _huge_ in some circles - the seller might not know they’re being used, as most of it tends to be collectors looking for their final show jewel.”

“We could buy one,” Ed said, “for study.”

“Didn’t you just hear me saying they’re nowhere to be found -”

“We _have no money,_ brother,” Al said.

“Oh.” Ed pulled a face. “Yeah.”

“You have no money?” Winry repeated, looking between them.

“Ed is still being sued,” Al said.

“By _Mustang,_ that blind bastard -”

“It’s not Mustang suing you, it’s the government -”

“Don’t talk like that, Ed, jeez -”

“- listen, I’ll talk how I want, and it’s not the _government_ darkening my doorstep every other day, now is it?”

“Every other day?” Winry said, and exchanged looks with Al.

“Ed exaggerates,” Al said. “But he’s been here a lot. Because Ed _keeps getting sued.”_

“It’s _my brain_ -”

“At this point, brother, I wonder if you want him to keep coming over -”

“Al! Don’t - stop - _no,”_ Ed said forcefully, reddening slightly. “He’s annoying. I hate him.”

Winry exchanged looks with Al again, now looking positively gleeful. “Really,” she said.

“Yes - what are you looking at me like that for?”

“You don’t look like you hate him,” she said.

“Well, luckily he doesn’t _look_ like anything,” Ed answered automatically, and the growing smile on Winry’s face promptly disappeared.

“Why do you keep making fun of him?” she asked. “It’s not very nice. I’m surprised you would, considering - “

“Considering _what,”_ Ed said with narrowed eyes, and Winry raised her eyebrows at him - he’d never learned how to intimidate her enough to stop speaking.

“Your prosthetics,” she said, gesturing towards his arm. “I know it’s not the _same_ -”

“No, it’s _completely different_ \- “

“But you’d think it would make you more sympathetic.”

“What, because I’m _disabled_ too?” He pulled a face.

Winry shrugged. “Yeah.”

“It’s completely different,” he repeated. “Besides, I’m not making fun of him, I’m just - “

“Making fun of him,” Al put in.

“It’s not like I can help it!” Ed protested. “The puns are just _there,_ what else am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t be so insensitive,” Winry said, and hit him with the newspaper again.

“Says you,” Ed complained, rubbing his arm.

Al watched them bicker with a resigned look, before the sound of something falling to the floor and shattering sounded from the kitchen.

Ed turned to Al. “If one of those cats has broken my plates _again_ -”

 _“Our_ plates, brother, and they wouldn’t break them if you didn’t leave them out -”

“But what if I want _more food?”_

Winry coughed loudly. “Was this -” she waved at the wires, “- the only reason you guys wanted me over?”

Ed and Al exchanged a look. “No?” Al tried.

“Because if it was,” she said, checking her watch, “we can go for dinner now.”

“Great idea,” Ed said, nodding frantically. “I’m starving.”

**

“So it turns out your ‘Kimblee’ has a bit of a reputation.” Havoc sailed through the door of Roy’s apartment thirty minutes late, tucking a half smoked cigarette into his pocket with one hand and waving a collection of papers in the other. “The guy has a record as long as my arm.”

“Do you have an address?” Riza asked, straight to the point.

Roy had been discussing the case with his friends - all well connected to different investigative services, of course - with no progress, and he cast his head toward the doorway, hopeful. He heard Havoc making his way to the kitchen, and assumed the police officer was helping himself to coffee.

“Nope,” he called from the kitchen, and Roy’s shoulder sagged. Next to him, Falman sighed. “We don’t even have a first name. Or a surname. I can’t really tell with this one.” The footsteps resumed, and Roy heard the sound of Havoc settling into the armchair on the other side of the coffee table. “Hey, where’s Fuery?”

“On a date,” Breda replied, and Roy smothered a laugh at Havoc’s outraged groan.

“Seriously? That dweeb gets a date and I’m stuck doing extra work on my night off?”

“He sounded very excited,” Riza added.

“It’s sad to hear how little you value the people of this city, Jean,” Roy said mildly. “And let’s not blame your dateless state on the little I ask of you. Did you find _anything_ useful?”

“Shut up,” Havoc grumbled. “And the record’s useful, isn’t it? I mean, it tells us that he’s clearly working for someone.”

“Really? I thought he was at the top of the food chain…” Falman said. “I mean, you can’t go much higher than someone who has the power to get his lackeys out of jail in less than six hours, can you?”

“Apparently you can. Or if you can’t, then he’s wielding someone else’s power. The only connection we can make between his crime scenes is that he uses the same kind of bomb - a Bradley. Aside from that, it’s pretty obvious that he’s been cleaning up other people’s messes; he’s been involved in drug rings, assassination attempts...all successful, too.”

“That falls in line with the bombings we’ve witnessed so far,” Riza told him. “They’ve all been crime scenes, right?”

“Four crime scenes. The incident where we apprehended the...lion-man - and I’m still having trouble believing that, by the way - was an evidence lockup.”

“We?” Havoc asked. “From what I read in the paper, that was all Fullmetal’s work. You were pretty useless.”

Roy aimed a middle finger across the coffee table. Riza coughed deliberately, and Roy could only guess that Havoc had been about to throw something at him - which wasn’t a rare occurrence; Roy supposed it was refreshing that someone continued to torment him even after he was blinded.

“So even if we get to Kimblee, we still might not get to the bottom of it?” Riza asked.

“Maybe not, but he’s the only name we’ve got right now, and he’s the next link in the chain,” Roy said.

“Does the Bradley give us any more info?” she asked Breda, who shook his head.

“I haven’t heard of it in years,” he said.

Riza pressed her lips together, then smiled. “I’ll call Rebecca.”

Roy could practically feel Havoc perk up. “Here?”

“If she feels the need to come in,” Riza said over her shoulder, already heading for the hallway to make her call.

“I love that woman,” Havoc sighed.

 _“We know,”_ Breda said. “Why don’t you just - ow, Vato, what?”

“While Riza is getting relevant information for our bomber,” Roy said with a meaningful head-tilt toward Breda, “I want a detailed visual of our crime scenes, Falman.”

“Yes, sir,” Falman said with amusement, and started explaining Havoc’s photos with the detail and accuracy of the camera itself.

After a while, Riza came back in, settling back on the couch next to Roy.

“Rebecca hasn’t heard anything new,” she stated as soon as Falman finished talking. “She knows a collector who’s looking for a Bradley bomb, and has been for a long time - this has to be a private transaction.”

“So there’s a leak in the military,” Breda concluded, sighing.

“Not necessarily,” Riza said. “Bradley bombs are old, and Rebecca said the radius of damage would be impossible with a military standard Bradley. They’ve been altered in some way, which means either our seller or our buyer has significant technical knowledge, or there’s a third party involved.”

“The seller could be retired,” Roy pointed out. “If the point is damage, not vintage collections, a younger military official would smuggle out the current bombs used by the military - a Bradley is still harmless compared to them.”

“It just seems like such a hassle,” Havoc said, “buying old military bombs and then improving them, instead of just using modern ones. Why would he do that?”

The room was quiet for a second, before suggestions started piling up.

“To send a message?” Falman said.

“The Bradley specializes in localized damage,” Roy said.

“He’s a huge hipster?” Breda suggested, and Havoc chuckled.

“Or maybe because we’re having such a hard time tracing them,” Riza offered. “The military would crack down hard on any equipment being used outside their ranks, and any leak would show itself - old weapons like these, who aren’t being used anymore, they can distance themselves from completely.”

Roy nodded while she talked.

“So we’re looking for a fucking mastermind then,” Havoc said, and the weight of his sigh could be felt throughout the room. “Brilliant.”

**

It was late, or early, or whatever it was at arse o’clock in the morning, and Ed was tired. He felt like he’d been out every night this week - this Kimblee running around meant every petty two-bit criminal wanted to try their hand, see how much they could get away with when the police was still overwhelmed, and he had his hands full trying to keep it somewhat manageable.

He stopped in an alleyway, clapping his hands together and putting them against the asphalt. The ground rolled like a wave toward the assailant, who darted away - Ed frowned, put his palms together and reached for the wall, and the brick reached out like a hand to keep the criminal in its grip. The would-be victim stood frozen in fear until he dropped to his knees - praying, Ed thought, until he could see that the man was searching for his wallet.

Finally, Ed walked up to the robber, rolling his shoulder until it made a cracking sound. “I’ll free you if you go report yourself,” he sighed, and the robber nodded violently. The brick fell away, slowly reshaping itself into its old form, and the robber stumbled away, mumbling something about Fullmetal that Ed couldn’t be bothered to hear.

He was helping the other man up, wallet safely in hand, when a shadow fell over him and obscured the faint light the moon gave. Ed looked up, and his eyes immediately narrowed.

“What do you want? Are you being followed?”

“No,” Cinder Flame said. The man was still clinging to Ed’s forearm, so he shook him off and nodded along to his repeated _thank you, god bless you_ until the man finally left. Cinder Flame smiled as he retreated. “Another adoring member of the public, I see.”

“Like you can talk,” Ed said, clapping his hands a final time to reform the last bits of asphalt. “Where’s your fanclub?”

“All good boys and girls should be in bed by this hour,” Cinder Flame purred.

“What does that make us?”

“What do you think?” Cinder Flame said, and left his words hanging in the air for a few seconds before he laughed to break the tension. “It doesn’t matter - this time of day doesn’t treat anyone kindly.”

“You can say that again,” Ed said, “if I find one more hack criminal tonight, maybe I’ll just kip on them until they stop.”

“A unique approach, certainly,” Cinder Flame said. “There’s a 24-hour Greggs around the corner if you’re really desperate.”

Ed made a face, though he didn’t know if Cinder Flame could see it under the hood and domino mask. “I hate that place,” he complained. “Their coffee is shit.”

“Pasties aren’t that bad,” Cinder Flame argued.

“Not that bad doesn’t equal _good,”_ Ed said. “Come on, then.”

The poor employee on shift didn’t make a fuss out of who they were beyond a quick double-take as they entered, and filled their orders almost immediately. Ed took a cautious sip of his coffee and grimaced. “Yeah, no, still awful.”

“Wakes you up, though,” Cinder Flame said through his meat and potato pasty - it was strange seeing the normally regal Cinder Flame so mundane, and the sight made Ed laugh. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Ed said, waving it away. “It’s been a busy few days, huh?”

Cinder Flame swallowed before he replied. “Worryingly so,” he said. They sat down on a bench, Ed absently letting his eyes wander over the wide, empty street on either side of them. “Kimblee is still out there.”

“Hey, I’m working on it,” Ed replied, insulted.

“So am I,” Cinder Flame said, “and while a mediocre effort from you is more than many people’s best, there’s nothing to do about a man who won’t be - can’t be - found.”

Ed blinked. “My mediocre - I give this job my all, you know!”

“It was a compliment,” Cinder Flame replied after a sip of coffee, “meant sincerely. You’re extraordinary, Fullmetal, surely you realize that.”

What.

Ed stared at him. He dropped the pasty in his hand.

_What._

Cinder Flame shifted. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said, “I just - ”

Ed finally managed to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. _“What,”_ he said. “I mean, thank you - but also - have you _seen_ me, I mean, I’m not -”

Cinder Flame laid a hand on his arm, and Ed went quiet immediately, automatically leaning closer - “Did you hear that?” he asked.

Ed shook his head, mostly to clear it. “Hear what?”

“An explosion,” Cinder Flame said, standing up and downing his coffee in one go. “We have to hurry, come on!”

They ran out of the shitty coffee shop, Ed crumpling his shitty coffee and tossing it behind him - he’d done the city so many favours, they could deal with his littering. “They’re getting there quicker,” he said, keeping pace beside Cinder Flame.

“They don’t care about us knowing it’s related,” Cinder Flame replied.

“It’s not Kimblee committing the crimes, though, is it?” Ed asked. “He just cleans up.”

“Someone cleans up on his command, rather,” Cinder Flame said, and came to an abrupt halt. The smell of explosives hung in the air, and the streetlights faintly illuminated the figure of a non-descript man kneeling with his back to them.

“Can you see him?” he asked Cinder Flame, voice hushed.

Cinder Flame snapped his fingers. “Yes.”

That was such a weird quirk of his - very showy, Ed supposed, and ‘showy’ seemed to be ninety percent of Cinder Flame’s character.

Ed’s own red coat billowed in the wind. He refused to note any hypocrisy in his thinking.

“Hey!” he yelled. “You! Stop!”

The bomber looked up, sniffed the air and startled - he stood as if to run, and Ed quickly erected a wall to block off his exit. “Shout at him and alert him to our presence,” Cinder Flame murmured. “Excellent strategy.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Ed said and started running towards the man. The bomber flexed aggressively, which Ed thought was kind of unnecessary, and then his shirt started to rip, and skin grew ashen and spiky. “Not this again,” he moaned, “wasn’t lion man enough?”

“How does he look?” Cinder Flame shouted from a bit away. Two black-clad figures had appeared from around the corner, and they were currently surrounded by winding circles of flames, contrasting with the darkness of night around them.

 _So showy._ “Like a … boar? Or a porcupine? What _are_ you?” Ed asked the man.

The man just grunted and punched him - Ed dodged it, and tried to flip him over, but the man stayed where he was. His punches came fast and strong, and Ed didn’t have time to clap his hands and change the scenery in his favour - he darted around him as best he could, looking for the man’s weak spot. Ed landed a punch with his right arm on the man’s spiked shoulder, breaking the quills only to see them lengthen again.

“What the _shit,”_ Ed said, and had to vault backwards as several of the quills launched themselves at him.

The man didn’t give him any time to breathe, relentlessly pursuing him across the street - if Ed could only get close enough to a wall to find the earth in it and bend it into shape, but the man refused to fall back like he should, even though Ed was faster, and he had to keep changing direction to keep him off him.

“A little help?” he called to Cinder Flame, and immediately he could feel a sharp pain in his left shoulder - one of the porcupine man’s quills. It felt like someone had stabbed him with Pinako’s knitting needles, though they had to be laced with a numbing agent, because he could already feel it spreading. He stumbled, dropping to lower ground and turning so he could kick the man in his chest - his metal leg boosted it, making the man go flying. Ed dug out the quill from his side and put it in his pocket - it scraped against something else, and he pulled out a small cylinder.

Ed’s coordination was already slipping, the agent spreading quickly, and his fingers shook as he pointed the device in front of him and hit the button. A piercing sound emitted from it, and the boar man roared, his already twisted face contorting further - Ed could hear another yell as well, and with surprise he realized it was Cinder Flame, who must have been caught off-guard by the sound.

Suddenly, the street was ablaze. _So fucking showy,_ Ed thought, and then he didn’t have time to think anymore, because the second bomb went off.

The bomber had been kneeling over something when they arrived, and this must have been what he was setting off - another Bradley, even more localized than the first one. The fire slowly died out, and the man they were fighting seemed shaken, sweaty - but not as helpless as Ed’s device should have rendered him.

“What - the _hell_ \- “ Ed said between punches, putting all his force behind his metal arm until finally the man was pushed back, “- _are you?”_

“None of your business,” the man said, and in the time it took him to speak, Ed clapped and dropped to the ground.

The street rose up around the man, caging him in - the man leaped over the asphalt bars, clearly giving up on the fight as he turned tail and ran while Ed was still finding his feet.

The last Bradley had taken all but one of the streetlights out, and Ed couldn’t spot Cinder Flame in the flickering light. “Cinderella?” he called out.

“I’m here,” Cinder Flame replied, and punctuated it with a pained huff.

Ed stumbled over to him, hands already reaching out. “What’s wrong, are you hurt?”

“Shrapnel,” Cinder Flame said, “when the Bradley went off.”

“Did you do that on purpose?” Ed said, “no, move your hands - I’ll take a look if you just -”

“I’m fine,” he said, pushing Ed’s hands away. “That device - isn’t that what Edward Elric is currently being sued about?”

Shit. “Uh, yeah,” Ed said, waving said device around. “Guess I’ll have to go back and tell him it doesn’t work, huh?”

Cinder Flame huffed. “What’s your connection to him?”

“I work with him,” Ed said after a pause, belatedly on guard. “Why?”

Cinder Flame shrugged and then doubled over, hands clutching at his side. “No reason,” he gritted out. “I’m going to leave now.”

“I - don’t die on the way home!” Ed shouted after him, frowning as he watched Cinder Flame stagger off into the darkness.

**

Roy unlocked the door to his apartment, stumbling as he moved towards the living room. The pain was disorienting him, and he bumped his leg against the couch before sinking into it. He reached for his mobile phone, left in its usual position on the coffee table, and keyed in Riza’s number.

It rang three times before she answered, no trace of sleep in her voice. “Roy.”

“Riza. Sorry to wake you; I could use some assistance. Would you mind coming down?”

There was a click as Riza hung up, not bothering to reply. Thirty seconds later she was letting herself into his apartment, and he heard the flick of a light switch and her soft intake of breath.

“What happened to you?” she asked, keeping her voice level as she sat beside him on the couch. Roy grimaced.

“A bomb went off. It’s just shrapnel; I need you to help me get it out.”

Riza hummed, disapproving, and the weight on the couch shifted as she left. He heard her clattering around the bathroom, and she returned with his first aid kit. She helped him remove the top half of his costume, and he leant back against the cushions, hissing as she poured alcohol on the wound. She tsked, and Roy didn’t need her to say anything to hear the ‘you asked for this’ that was on her mind.

“Did you get him, at least?” Riza asked after a moment’s silence.

“No. I’m afraid I did bugger all, this time. Fullmetal may well have been better off alone.”

“Fullmetal was there?”

“Yes.” Roy smiled. “We had coffee.”

“That’s interesting,” Riza commented. Roy had thought it was as well - usually any gesture of camaraderie was rejected off the bat by Fullmetal. It had been a surprise when he accepted, and such a shame that they were interrupted. Riza continued to prise the shrapnel from his side and Roy did his best not to wince, searching for topics to distract himself.

“It’s a small world we live in,” he said eventually, “Fullmetal works for Edward Elric.”

“Oh?”

“He used the device that was the subject of Elric’s most recent lawsuit; I thought I would do some digging. But I wasn’t aware that anyone besides the Elric brothers did any work in the lab.”

“Have they had any visitors while you were there?”

“One, but he was from another country, and they said he was on holiday. They could have been lying to me, though - Edward doesn’t trust me. He thinks I’m working for the other side, of course.”

“Well, technically, you are.”

“Not really; I had that meeting with Alphonse last year, remember? I force the government to give him a break, most of the time.”

Riza let out an exasperated laugh, “are you really that curious about who Fullmetal is? You’ve never wanted to share your identity with anyone.”

Roy frowned. To be honest, he didn’t really need to know who Fullmetal was to keep working with him, and he’d never given it much thought before. The other superhero fascinated him, and he certainly wanted to connect with him, but he’d always held the illusion that they might somehow be able to separate their ‘hero’ lives from their personal ones. It was only when the possibility of tracking him down became more real that he had felt any pull towards finding out who he was.

“It would be easier...to work together if we could grab something to eat without being in this get up,” he said slowly, and Riza’s tut of disbelief was enough to know that she wasn’t buying it.

“Well, if you’re so desperate to make your life more convenient, why don’t you just treat it like one of your cases? It’s just an investigation, and it sounds like you have something to go on.”

Roy hummed thoughtfully. “I do already spend a lot of time at the Elrics’...I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to call on them a few more times.”

“As long as you keep out of _their_ blast radius,” Riza commented drily, and Roy laughed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to [zeffy](http://syncytio.tumblr.com) for the beta!

Ed hated press conferences. He’d only let himself be coerced into two others in the year and a half he’d been known as a superhero - one to ‘officially’ introduce himself, which had felt more like an interrogation than his thesis defense, and one after he’d come to blows with the Manchester Metropolitan Police Force. It hadn’t really resolved anything, but throwing them both into the public eye had at least shown the police that they had to let him do his job if they weren’t going to do theirs. Public opinion had always swayed in favour of superheroes - they were cooler, after all, and didn’t dish out speeding tickets on Friday nights.

Now, though, the mass of faces in front of him looked hostile, cameras and microphones angled towards him almost like weapons. In the back, he could see people waving posters and sporting domino masks - his own _fan club,_ what a weird concept - but they didn’t help lessen the tension. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, grateful for the desks and platform which separated him from the journalists and - he couldn’t believe he was saying this - even for Cinder Flame beside him. It was hard to read the other hero’s expression with the mask covering his eyes, but his mouth was turned downward, and his posture was straight-backed - though that might have been because of the injury, Ed hadn’t been able to figure out how serious it had been that night.

“They’re looking hungry today, huh?” Ed said after a moment’s pause, trying to fill the silence as they waited for the police representative - Detective Havoc, or something - to arrive. Cinder Flame stiffened, and then looked in Ed’s direction.

“I can never tell,” he replied. “Journalists always seem to do one thing and say another.”

Ed snorted in agreement and opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by the arrival of Detective Havoc. The officer quickly stubbed out a cigarette on the corner of the desk, grabbing the plastic chair which had been positioned by Ed and moving it to Cinder Flame’s other side before sitting. Havoc said something too low for Ed to hear, and Cinder Flame’s lips twitched.

 _Interesting._ Did they know each other?

The room died down to a quiet buzz and Detective Havoc coughed, pulling a stack of notecards from his breast pocket.

“We’re gathered here today - wait, that’s not the right -” Havoc shuffled the cards, and Ed fought the urge to roll his eyes ( _you have to at least make it look like you’re on the same side_ , Al’s voice resounded in his head), “Okay, here we go. The series of bombings in central Manchester…”

Havoc’s statement must have been designed to try and bore the journalists out of their fervour, Ed thought, tuning out already. The man barely shifted the tone of his voice, summing up the events using vague terms like ‘we are doing the best we can’, ‘should more evidence come to light’ and ‘several professionals are working at analysing patterns...’. Ed knew it wouldn’t satisfy anyone, and he braced himself for the barrage of questions that would come afterwards.

“...We are working in tandem with Manchester’s own Gifted Patrol to tackle this issue, and we hope that it might be resolved without any further casualties. Should anyone have any information regarding the incidents, in particular our chief suspect who goes by the name of ‘Kimblee’, we would appreciate them contacting the police on the number provided,” Havoc concluded. “We’ll now be accepting questions from press representatives.”

A hand raised in the front row, and Ed narrowed his eyes at the young woman’s press pass. _The Daily Mail._ “It’s been two months since the first bombing - that we know of, anyway - and besides getting one name, which you don’t seem to be able to confirm means anything, we haven’t heard of any more progress. Don’t you think it’s time to call in the _real_ superheroes?” She was looking directly at Ed as she spoke, and Ed swallowed, flustered, but was saved from having to form a response when Cinder Flame spoke over him.

“Are you referring to the London League?” he asked, not waiting for the woman to nod before continuing. “First, I’d like to think that we northerners are just as ‘real’ as all of the other superheroes, ma’am - I take pride in our city, and hope that the city takes the same pride in me. Secondly, as the bombings have been highly localised with only minor casualties suffered, there doesn’t seem to be any need to call in teams who increase the risk of collateral damage. Fullmetal and I know Manchester well, and I am certain we can handle this ourselves.”

 _So damn smooth,_ Ed thought bitterly. Cinder Flame had far more experiences with press conferences than himself, and even made a few appearances on talk shows. A collection of his statements had been assembled into a playlist on YouTube, and if you watched them all consecutively you could tell that he responded to all criticism the exact same way; with a dashing smile and by turning the question back on the critic. Ed’s reaction - and he was self aware enough to admit it, if only to himself - was usually just to get angry, because how dare they try to tell him how to do a job they couldn’t do themselves?

“I’m not sure that you can say that, given Monday night’s performance…” Another voice, belonging to an older man a few rows back called out. “The entire situation seemed clumsy from an observer’s point of view, and wasn’t it your powers that caused the second bomb to go off? A source of ours says that you were injured.”

“What source?” Detective Havoc demanded, and Cinder Flame laid a hand on his arm. They definitely knew each other, then.

“I’m not immortal -”

“I’m just asking,” the man continued deliberately with a pointed stare, “how are we supposed to leave the city in your hands when your own errors are putting us in danger?”

There was a long pause, and Ed looked from the journalist to Cinder Flame in disbelief. The hero didn’t seem to know how to respond, fist clenched at his side.

Ed sighed dramatically - seemed it was his turn to say something, then, “look, it may have seemed ‘clumsy’ to you - and I’m betting you weren’t actually there, it was ass o’clock in the morning and we would have seen you, seriously - but the situation was, and is, way more complex than it looks. You’ve got to make quick decisions when you’re dealing with this sh--” he remembered the kids at the back of the audience “--stuff, and I’d rather have _him_ at my back than you, you feel me?”

“D-did you just defend Cinder Flame?” This question came again from _The Daily Mail_ reporter, and Ed blanched. He folded his arms across his chest, idly tugging at his hood with metal fingers. Even Cinder Flame was looking at him, mouth open in what Ed could only guess was astonishment.

“I told the truth, is all…” he grumbled, and looked desperately at the excited hand which was waving at the back of the rows of journalists, “any more questions?”

“Yes, hello - Kelsey here, from _Heat_ magazine,” _oh, shit,_ “given what just happened, I really don’t think this question is unfounded - we have a statement from a Greggs employee that tells us that you and Cinder Flame came to their establishment to ‘get coffee’ about ten minutes before the incident, and that you ‘didn’t look as though you were in a rush to be somewhere’. Can you confirm this?”

“...So what?” Ed asked, flushing. Next to him, Cinder Flame sighed, and Kelsey beamed. Detective Havoc was already leaning over to the security desk, whispering, ‘who let her in here?’

“Well, I was just wondering if we could get an official statement from either of you regarding the development of your relationship. I mean, it’s well known that you’ve always been at each other’s throats when you don’t have to work together, and now you’re on a coffee date?”

“No comment.” Cinder Flame seemed to have recovered his facade, answering with a tone that refused any further questions. Ed was still reeling from the question; he hadn’t even considered that it might be seen that way, “I think, seeing as we have gotten this far off topic, now might be a good time to conclude?”

“Right, right,” Detective Havoc said, beginning his closing statement - much the same as his opening one. Ed stood quickly, and he and Cinder Flame edged off the platform, moving around the back so as to avoid the torrent of press workers who had begun to swarm towards them.

After a while, the press retreated, and Ed made his way over to his fan club, scratching his neck as he went. Cinder Flame had his own gaggle of adoring fans to impress - Ed’s fans were smaller, but no less enthusiastic. “Hey, kid,” Ed said, crouching next to Martha and bumping the fist she held out. “What’s up?”

“The police man is not very interesting,” she said solemnly, and he laughed. Martha smiled, rocking her wheelchair back and forth slightly. Her mum stood behind her, talking with one of the other parents. Martha was always present at this kind of stuff, even though she didn’t like it very much - it made Ed feel humbled, to see how many kids showed up just to see him. “Can I touch your leg again, Mr. Fullmetal?”

“Sure,” Ed said, and stood up to let her touch it - his costume already had it uncovered, and she ran her hands over the metal, eyes wide with admiration.

“It’s _so cool,”_ she said, and another kid - slightly older, but still with baby fat clinging to his cheeks - nodded enthusiastically. “Will I get one of them?”

Ed momentarily exchanged looks with Martha’s mum, who gave a sad smile in return. “Maybe when you’re older,” he told the nine year old. “Maybe you’ll even learn to build some, huh?”

“That’s what I wanna be,” the other kid said, thumping his chest. “I wanna make stuff for us!”

“That’s awesome,” Ed said. “I think that’s really important.”

The kid beamed, and Ed smiled back, scratching at his neck again.He found it strange that kids sought his approval, but he got comments like this all the time, and a couple of times parents had even thanked him for inspiring their children to ‘keep going’. There were a lot of familiar faces in the crowd, people he’d helped or assisted - one of the girls at the back he’d even saved without superpowers when her epilepsy had been triggered at the top of the Manchester Wheel, and he’d climbed to the next capsule and helped her down.

He stood there for a while, chatting with them. A quick glance revealed that Cinder Flame was still talking to his own fans as well, gesturing with his hands and looking very intense. _Probably discussing politics,_ Ed thought, dismissing them. Because of Cinder Flame’s manner during press conferences, people tended to go to him for the serious questions - Ed mostly got the ones about capes.

After a long conversation with the fan club’s president, Nadiya, Ed was practically dead on his feet, and he said his goodbyes awkwardly, giving hugs and signing things for the latecomers. Finally he was out in the cold night air, and he allowed himself one deep breath.

“They can be a handful, can’t they?” Cinder Flame’s quiet baritone came from his side.

Ed nodded. “They’re super great, it’s just…” He gestured vaguely. “You know.”

Cinder Flame nodded, and they stood side by side, looking out in the dark street. “You’re very important to them,” he said finally. “As an idol. It’s very admirable, what you’re doing.”

“What?” Ed said. He was too tired to get indignant.

“Showing off your prosthetics,” Cinder Flame said. “Being proud of your community.”

Ed shrugged one shoulder. There wasn’t really anything for him to say - it was between him and them, although he appreciated Cinder Flame’s comment. It didn’t feel like being proud as Fullmetal made up for hiding his disability as Ed Elric, but then again, it wasn’t anyone’s business - _it wasn’t hiding,_ he repeated internally, _it was called being_ private.

“I wish…” Cinder Flame started, then laughed awkwardly. “Never mind.”

“What?” Ed asked.

Cinder Flame breathed out, then looked over at him, shoulders hunched like he was baring something he didn’t want Ed to see. “I wish we could all be as open as you.”

**

The warehouse was massive - that much Roy could tell, even without the initial snap of his fingers.

“Okay,” Riza’s voice rang out. “It’s all set up now, so we’re starting.”

He immediately ducked to avoid one of the tennis balls she threw at his head. He headed left, hoisting himself up on a box and snapping his fingers almost rhythmically, jumping from one platform to the next.

“Haystacks,” Riza called, another tennis ball bouncing off the wall next to him.

“I’ve got it!” he yelled back, clambering up another box to get a clearer vantage point as he snapped his fingers and guided the flames around the stacks of hay Riza had set out, careful not to singe them. He continued on - there was a wall, and he tried to vault over it like Fullmetal would, but it just ended up bruising his wrist and his ankles wobbled when he landed. “Jesus,” he muttered, rubbing his wrist. “How the hell does he do that?”

“Don’t lose track of the situation,” Riza reminded sharply, and this time Roy set her damn tennis ball on fire, incinerating it before it touched the ground.

He snapped his fingers again, and there was a figure approaching him - he calculated the trajectory, and sent it into a fiery pit. After a second, the flames died out. Enough to permanently injure, but he was actively working on not killing people any more.

Roy stood still for a few seconds, every hair on end - the air shifted slightly, and he countered Riza’s first kick, grabbing after her foot. She twisted, evading his arm, and the second of lost balance threw him off - her fist came up hard and fast, hitting his abdomen and knocking the breath out of him. He crouched and snapped, trying to buy himself time, and Riza let him catch his breath for a second before he had to roll to avoid her elbow digging into his neck. Roy stood, extended his arm left and snapped his fingers one last time - eight meters away, three figures stood, and at his command, the one Riza had marked with a weapon burst into flame.

It must have looked cool, but his theatrics also cost him time and re-orientation - Riza had him on the floor in two seconds, her forearm an unyielding line at his throat. He let out a laugh, and her weight shifted just before she let him up.

“Your close range still needs work,” Riza said, holding out a hand, and he gratefully let her help him up. He brushed at his clothes.

“I got your criminal, though, didn’t I?” He gestured towards the three figures. “I got the right one.”

“You did,” Riza conceded. “That doesn’t help much if you’re getting beat in hand to hand.”

“That’s what Fullmetal is for,” he countered. “I’m sure I would have survived.”

“You can’t bank on that.” Roy made to reply, but a sharp pain in his side caused him to stumble backwards, hands reaching out behind him until he found the wall so he could lean against it. Riza was beside him in an instant, and although she didn’t fuss, he could feel the concern radiating from her.

“Don’t you have better things to be doing on a Saturday night?” he joked, trying to reassure her.

“I’d cancel on you if I did,” she said summarily. “Besides, I can imagine worse things to do on a Saturday night than throw things at your head.”

Roy laughed. “Still, I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt for you to spend time with people who aren’t me - or connected to me,” he tried again, hesitant, “this - what I do, and what we’ve become involved in - it can be overwhelming...I don’t want you to isolate yourself in the process.”

Riza’s tone hardened. “I’m not just doing this because you are, Roy,” she said, and Roy winced - that hadn’t been how he’d meant it to come across, “I looked at the facts and made my own decisions. I want to help; you’re not the only one who was changed by Maes’s death.”

Roy sighed, and slid down against the wall until he was sitting, arms resting on his knees. Hearing the words out loud still shook him - he didn’t suffer nightmares anymore, but he would never forget the last moments before he blacked out - Maes’s panicked expression as a figure moved towards him, a sharp gasp and blood dripping from his lips. The last thing he’d ever seen.

“I’m sorry,” Riza said hesitantly.

“No,” Roy said, scrubbing a hand over his face. “No, I should be the one to apologize. I shouldn’t presume. It’s just …”

“One could make the same argument,” she said, “for you. I have friends you’ve never met, but you ...”

“That’s not true,” he said quickly. “I have you, and Jean, and Breda - “

“And they were all Maes’s friends before they knew you.”

“I’m friends with Fullmetal,” Roy joked, “we grab coffee together now.”

Riza sighed. “That wouldn’t hold up in a court of law,” she said, but he could hear the smile in her voice.

“I’m sure I could find a way to sell it,” he said, pushing himself up against the wall so he could stand.

“Maybe,” Riza acknowledged. “Help me clean this up, will you?”

**

Ed was hunched over the table when there was a knock on the door. “Al,” he yelled, fiddling with the wires. “Damn it, this is why Winry -”

“Hello, Mr. Elric,” Mustang’s voice rang out, and Ed snorted.

“I’m busy,” he said. “Leave.”

“Isn’t it in your best interests that I make sure you avoid another lawsuit?” Mustang said smoothly, and came to stand behind Ed.

Ed sighed and pushed away the nullifier he was working on, automatically rustling some papers to hide it from view - even though there wasn’t any point in doing it. “I’m pretty sure I’m not infringing on your precious _copyright,”_ he said, turning towards him. Mustang leaned on the table, looking amused.

“Well, you were ‘pretty sure’ last time too, and look where that got us.”

Ed shivered. “Olivier is terrifying.”

“Exactly,” Mustang said, as if that proved his point - and Ed supposed it sort of did. “What are you working on, then?”

“None of your business,” Ed replied automatically, scowling, “What, are you spying for them now? This is like, the second time you’ve been round in the last four days, and you haven’t even brought me any paperwork.”

“I wish you’d see that I only have your best interests at heart,” Mustang answered with a dramatic sigh, and Ed’s scowl deepened - he hated being mocked, “this is actually more of a pre-emptive measure - if you actually tell me what you’re doing, perhaps I’ll be able to advise you on what needs some...creative adjustment.”

“Policing my work, in other words. This is supposed to be a free country, you know.”

“As long as you don’t sign your rights away,” Mustang countered with a smug smile. He straightened up only to flinch, reaching for his side with a pained hiss. Ed cocked an eyebrow, then realised that he’d have to do something more obvious if he wanted Mustang to actually notice.

“What was that?” he asked, going for unambiguity. Mustang’s eyes widened, and he started almost guiltily.

“It’s nothing,” he tried, but Ed could see the bead of sweat on his brow - the man was clearly in pain. He took a quiet step forward, and whilst Mustang frowned, trying to figure out where Ed was standing, he jabbed him gently in the side. Mustang doubled over, breathing in sharply, and Ed huffed triumphantly.

“Get over here,” Ed said, standing up and guiding Mustang roughly onto the well worn couch, wincing when the other man’s shin knocked against the coffee table. “Let me see.”

“Honestly, it’s fine, I don’t - ” But Ed had already tugged Mustang’s shirt out of his trousers, “...I really don’t think we’re close enough for you to be this forward.”

Ed flushed, but his embarrassment was secondary to the alarm he felt when he saw the gauze covered gash in Mustang’s side. He peeled back the dressing to see neat stitches - professionally done, probably - but it was clear that Mustang had been putting far too much strain on his wound.

“How the hell does something like this happen to someone like you?” He asked, eyebrows raised. Mustang pulled a face, pausing before answering as though it was a struggle to explain.

“I...fell down the stairs,” he said, expression meek, “and there was something sharp at the bottom.”

“What, like a knife? Shouldn’t you still be in hospital?”

“I didn’t think to ask,” Mustang said drily, “and I discharged myself. It’s a matter of pride, I suppose.”

“Well, that’s stupid. If you’re so proud maybe you shouldn’t go climbing stairs when you can’t see them.” Mustang’s expression closed off, and Ed could have kicked himself. He was trying to do something nice for once, damnit. “Sorry, I didn’t mean - ah, nevermind. Just stay here.”

Ed left Mustang on the couch and moved towards the cupboard beneath the lab’s sink, rummaging around until he found the small pot of white paste he was looking for. When he returned, Mustang was still sitting in exactly the same position Ed had left him in, looking mildly startled. Ed sat down beside him and unscrewed the lid of the pot, looking for a second at his own gloved hands before pressing the pot into Mustang’s.

“Here.” He said, suddenly uncomfortable. This might be the closest thing to nice he’d ever been to Mustang, and even though it wasn’t like he _hated_ the guy - yes, _fine,_ he’d admit it - it made him feel a little off balance; a little too open. “My friend Ling gave it to me. He said it speeds up healing, and I’ve used it a couple of times - takes the pain away, at least. I’ve been meaning to analyse its composition for a while, but, well. I’ve been busy.”

“Your foreign friend?” Mustang asked, shrugging off his shirt entirely, and Ed blinked, trying to remember whether Mustang and Ling had ever met.

“Yeah. He lives here now, though. Studies.”

Mustang nodded and started applying the cream. The sight of him carefully rubbing it into his skin made Ed supremely uncomfortable, and he mumbled something about making coffee before escaping to the kitchen.

When Ed returned with two steaming cups, Mustang was still shirtless, the skin around the wound not as red and angry as it had been. “Here’s some coffee,” Ed said gruffly and handed it to him, taking the pot back in the process.

“Ah - thank you,” Mustang said, and cradled the cup almost delicately. Ed sat down next to him, looking intently at his face. Roy’s eyes were dark and clouded, staring intently ahead of him as though he had something to focus on even though Ed knew it was impossible. The scarring on his face had clearly been there for some time, now just a darker shade of Roy’s own skin colour, but Ed could tell that it must have been painful. It spread from one temple to the other, and Ed wondered if Roy got phantom pains or itches there sometimes, like he did where his leg and shoulder connected to the prosthetics.

“Is it hard?” Ed asked abruptly, and grimaced at himself. “Readjusting, I mean.”

“Naturally,” Mustang replied, inclining his head slightly. Ed wondered how many times he’d gotten this question - how long had he been blind? Was it rude to ask? He wouldn’t like someone asking him, but… “But I get by.”

“Somewhat,” Ed said, gesturing to his recent injury, and Mustang sipped his coffee, shrugging.

“We all make mistakes. You can see, but I heard you bang your knee on the way to the kitchen.”

“That was uncalled for,” Ed murmured, embarrassed. Mustang laughed. The sound released the tension between them, and Ed sank further down into the couch. “I get it, though. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” he said easily - Ed frowned, but didn’t say anything more. They sat in silence for a bit, drinking their coffees.

“You never said what you’re working on,” Mustang said finally. Ed sighed.

“I hoped you’d let it go,” he replied honestly. “What if I promise it’s not related to my thesis?”

“Sadly, my profession doesn’t accept promises.”

“That’s a _lie,_ oaths and statements both are just one big promise.”

“I refuse to be pulled into a discussion about legal semantics with you, I’d be here all night -”

“And you’d _like it,”_ Ed snapped, before he realized what he’d said and went horribly red.

Mustang smiled. “Maybe so, but I have work of my own to get back to.”

“Brother, where is the - oh,” Al said, coming down the stairs and looking between Ed and Mustang’s naked torso with wide eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Ed took in their position, recalling Al’s teasing and instantly jumped to the other end of the couch, blushing to the roots of his hair. Al’s surprised expression had settled into something of a delighted smirk, and Roy just looked bemused, coffee cup clutched in his hand as his head swayed in search of Ed and Al.

“Y-You...this isn’t...you’re misunderstanding!” He said, and Al nodded sagely, clearly not believing him, “this idiot had to fall down the stairs, I was just helping him out, that’s all!”

“Right…” Al said, but then Ed’s words seemed to register, and he looked concerned. “Oh no, Roy, are you alright?”

Mustang nodded, his closed expression a far sight from the openness he’d displayed earlier. “I should probably go,” he said with finality, handing his coffee cup to Ed and putting his shirt back on. “I’ll take your word for it this time, Edward - but I have to keep checking up on you, you realise.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t,” Ed said, already thinking about how to next distract Mustang from the nullifier - he didn’t notice how Mustang stiffened and nodded.

“Goodbye, Al,” he said, and went out the door.

Al sighed explosively. “Brother, I swear…”

“What?” Ed asked defensively.

“One day you’re going to drive him away and we’ll get some big-shot lawyer against us who’ll sue us for ten grand,” he said. “I might as well start saving already.”

“What - oh,” Ed said, going over the conversation he’d just had. “I didn’t mean it like _that,_ do you think he was offended?”

Al just gave him a look and shook his head in exasperation. “Aye, I don’t think he thinks you’re his biggest fan.”

“I’m not,” Ed replied. “He’s - he’s okay, though. I guess.”

“Aye,” Al said, going into the kitchen and raising his voice so Ed could hear him still, “tell him that sometime, will you?”

**

Roy’s fingers skated over the documents he’d brought home from the office, but he was struggling to concentrate. The texture of the paper was refusing to form words for him, and he closed the file, frustrated, before leaning back against the couch with a sigh. It shouldn’t be too long before Havoc arrived, anyway, and there was no point starting anything new.

He hadn’t visited the Elrics’s in almost a week now - not since Edward had acted so strangely towards him. It had been a rare - albeit brash, but that was to be expected of Ed’s style - display of kindness when he’d been offered the paste, and if he hadn’t reacted so vehemently to Al’s assumption that they might be acting cordial to one another, Roy would have almost thought that they’d made some progress. It seemed, though, that the eldest Elric really couldn’t stand him, and Roy had felt too uncomfortable to continue his investigation straight away - even in the face of the tidbit he’d managed to learn about Ed’s friend Ling.

_Knowing first aid is fairly crucial when acting as a vigilante, isn’t it?_

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door - just a courtesy, because Havoc was letting himself in three seconds later. The detective headed straight for Roy’s kitchen, and he heard the sound of water being poured into the kettle, and the familiar ring of a spoon in the coffee tin. Two mugs were being placed onto the counter, and Roy pulled a face whilst Havoc couldn’t see him.

Three or four minutes later, Havoc entered the lounge, placing Roy’s mug into his hands before sitting down in the chair opposite him. Roy didn’t say anything as Havoc slurped the coffee and hissed, dissatisfied.

“You really have to stop buying such shitty coffee, man. I can’t be dealing with this when you have me coming to see you after a full shift at work.”

“It makes no difference to me,” Roy replied, monotonous, “all coffee tastes the same - bitter, and burnt, and frankly quite disgusting.”

Havoc gasped, appalled, “but...you’re always drinking it?”

Roy sighed, taking a sip of the mug Havoc had given him and using the opportunity to demonstrate his poker face, “people keep giving it to me. Even Riza gives it to me, and I’m fairly certain she knows how much I dislike it.”

“...Can’t you just ask us to stop? I thought I was doing something nice, jeez.”

“I’m afraid I seem to have cultivated an addiction,” Roy said with distaste, “I can’t bring myself to make it, so it’s actually fairly convenient now.”

“You’re an idiot,” Havoc told him, and Roy shrugged, “You could have stopped this before it went too far. Addictions aren’t any fun, you know.”

Roy could tell Havoc was itching for a cigarette as he spoke, and smiled, “Not in my apartment.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Don’t you want to hear what I’ve found, by the way? It’s good.”

“Go ahead,” Roy said, gesturing with his free hand.

“We found a pattern,” Havoc said excitedly. “There’s a gang sign seen by several of the crime scenes, it wasn’t a pattern before we found a ring by the last one - I have a picture on me, let me find it... okay, so it’s circular, it’s a snake biting its own tail, and it has wings. Pretty simple and stylistic.”

“Very Jungian,” Roy said. “Not that alchemy’s been relevant for several hundred years. Does the sign tell us anything more about who’s behind it?”

“The snake’s been sighted at a couple of other crime scenes over the years - most notably, the scene of Maes Hughes’s murder.”

Roy visibly started, hot coffee dripping over his hand. He wiped it on his slacks. “Why?”

“Maes must have gotten mixed up with them , - the case could have gone bad in some way,” Havoc said. “You … you were there, weren’t you? Do you remember anything?”

Roy shook his head. “If I did, it would have been in my statement.”

“Roy -” Havoc started, then sighed. “See if you have some time to think back at some point, it could be vital to the case. If Maes was involved too, this has been going on for much longer than we thought.”

“For over seven years,” Roy said, taking a drink from his coffee to quell the bitterness in his voice. “If we could find out who killed Maes -”

“Be careful,” Havoc said, stopping him in his tracks.

“I know,” Roy said shortly once he’d recovered. “I am.”

“Riza said -” Havoc started, but went quiet once Roy raised a hand.

“Gossip amongst yourselves if you want, but I’d rather not hear it.”

“It’s not _gossip,_ we’re just worried about you,” Havoc said. “It was an ugly time for all of us, and to have to go back to it… I wish we wouldn’t.”

Roy nodded slowly. The events from so long ago still haunted him, even though he could distance himself now - still, the mystery of Maes’s killer was a constant weight on his conscience. If he could catch them, make them suffer as he had, as Maes had - “We have no choice.”

“I know,” Havoc sighed. “Fullmetal’s working with you, isn’t he? At least you can count on him not to be emotionally compromised, eh?”

“Have you actually _met_ him?” Roy said, raising his eyebrows. “Fullmetal is incredibly emotional.”

Havoc snickered.

“What?”

“Riza was right,” Havoc said, still laughing. “You totally have a thing for him.”

“What - No -?” Roy fell silent once he realised his refusal would be counterproductive, but the damage was already done.

“Your _face!”_ Havoc sounded like he was practically crying with laughter. “This serves you right on so many levels, I can’t believe this.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Roy said, embarrassed, but Havoc clearly didn’t care.

“And all the girls - over the years - and then a _male superhero_ \- whose identity you don’t even know!”

“I’m gonna find out,” Roy said defensively, and Havoc stopped laughing.

“Really? Do you have any ideas?”

“None I’m going to share with you.”

Havoc sighed expansively. “You take all the fun out of it, Roy. Here I am, a detective in his prime, and you won’t even utilize my abilities -”

“You have the Ouroboros case to be working on!”

“Yeah, but that’s no fun. Unveiling the secret identity of your masked vigilante lover sounds like the stuff out of a romance novel, the girls would _love it.”_

Roy shook his head. “It’s my own business and it’ll stay that way. Keep your nose out of it. Now, was there anything else about the case?”

“Let’s see, uh… Ouroboros, Maes… no, that was pretty much it.”

“A detective in his prime, hm?”

“That’s way more than we had already!”

Roy inclined his head, conceding, but his smirk stayed, and it grew wider at Havoc’s exasperated huff.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” he said. “Are you coming?”

“It’s freezing out,” Roy said. “I’d rather not.”

**

Ed blew hot air into his hands, rubbing the flesh one against his chest. “Why is it so cold,” he muttered to himself, casting an angry glance up at the moon. His nerve joints ached, and the metal was freezing. “It’s not even November yet.”

A flicker of blue came from his right, and Cinder Flame appeared, flashy as always. “Have you seen anything?” he asked, surprisingly direct for a man who could spend hours bantering.

Ed shook his head, still frowning at the cold, and Cinder Flame waited a beat before he nodded.

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t show tonight.”

“Me too,” Ed said. “Actually, I’ve been working on this - uh, getting Edward Elric to help me - with this thing. It could nullify a Bradley if we set it off at the right time.”

“That’s incredibly convenient,” Cinder Flame said, sounding surprised, “if it works.”

“Of course it works!” Ed replied, indignant.

“Have you tested it?”

“Well _excuse_ me, there isn’t exactly an abundance of Bradleys lying around, that’s the whole problem -”

“You created a device to nullify a bomb without access to the bomb in question?” Cinder Flame said, humming slightly.

Ed blinked. “Well, yeah.”

“That’s impressive,” Cinder Flame said. “Mr. Elric must be glad to have you on his team.”

“I - uh - yeah,” Ed said, scratching the back of his head. “I mean, he helps out too. And his brother.”

Cinder Flame nodded, an amused smile still on his lips. “Hopefully we’ll get to see it in action.”

“There’s not been any ruckus tonight,” Ed said, “it might be a quiet night - although I’d be pissed if I froze my ass off for nothing -”

“I could heat you up,” Cinder Flame said.

Ed paused.

“With fire, I mean,” Cinder Flame eventually continued, sounding so painfully awkward that Ed burst out laughing, almost doubling over.

“I - appreciate it,” he got out between breaths, “but I’m okay. It’s just the metal, it’s a hassle.”

Cinder Flame nodded, and they stood in comfortable silence for a bit, Ed rubbing his hand against his chest again. “We should split up,” he said finally.

“Yeah,” Ed said, though keeping watch without Cinder Flame sounded like a much colder alternative than having him there. “But we only have the one device. And who knows what you’d do if you confronted one of Kimblee’s men without me there, I mean -”

“If you’re calling me ‘rash’, Fullmetal, I think we need to have a discussion about your own personality traits -”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been trying to get information out of them all along, you just come in all willy-nilly with your flames and your dramatic entrances -”

“Those flames have saved your life,” Cinder Flame pointed out, and Ed shook his head, looking away to hide his smile.

“I’m definitely the heavy hitter in this duo, don’t even try it.”

“I … very well,” Cinder Flame said. “I’ll concede the point, but I stand by the fact that I’d be perfectly well off without you.”

“Good thing we don’t have to test _that,_ huh?” Ed said. “Let’s walk, I need to keep warm.”

They walked around, mindlessly bickering as they both looked for signs of Kimblee’s gang. The wind still blew occasionally, though at least it wasn’t raining - Ed felt like it rained _all the time_ here compared to home. They wandered along the high street, ducking past Affleck’s Palace and pausing at a tram stop where they thought they’d seen a man acting suspicious - but it turned out to be a drunkard. Ed immediately pointing out the 24-hour Greggs opposite it, but unlike last time they were here, they couldn’t hear anything. The city was quiet around them.

After a while, Ed began to wonder if there was any point to this watch at all. Hanging out with Cinder Flame was alright, even though it still felt kind of awkward - but he’d rather be home in his warm bed if he had the choice. “Hey, do you think -” he started as they rounded a corner, then stopped.

Two men were standing in the alleyway - one broad set and dark skinned, hunched over a disassembled Bradley and what looked like blueprints, and the other tall, with a familiar blond moustache and glasses.

“Shit, it’s the lion guy,” he muttered. Beside him, Cinder Flame stiffened. “But who the hell is the other one?”

Lion guy turned around, hearing Ed’s voice - clearly he had the senses to back his looks up - and kicked the man beside him. Ed watched, too disturbed to take action, as the pair shifted; lion guy taking the same form he had before whilst the other man broadened out even wider, skin turning a pale, waxy green, eyes rolling backwards into his head until only the whites remained.

“What. The fuck,” Ed said, looking towards Cinder Flame. The other hero remained impassive, and Ed cursed his ability to seem completely unfazed by everything. “Okay, I’ll handle the lion guy again. You take...that.”

Cinder Flame nodded, snapping his fingers and heading towards the - frog? Man? - a fraction of a second after Ed had already begun running towards the lion. The lion pounced, and Ed dropped to the ground, quickly throwing up a stone wall to act as a shield. Concentrating, he aimed the earth around his attacker, only to have him jump over the wall.

“You aren’t going to get me with the same trick twice!” The lion growled.

“How do you even talk like that?” Ed asked, momentarily distracted as he tried to analyse what exactly was required for someone to undergo such a complete shift. He shook himself just in time to raise his metal arm as the lion went for him, wincing at the screech of teeth on metal and praying that the prosthetic would hold - he didn’t want to have to explain to Winry that he’d let a man chew off her work.

While the lion was focused on Ed’s prosthetic, Ed stretched his other hand until his fingers grazed the concrete. The ground trembled, and a sharp blade of concrete pierced the lion’s shoulder. He roared, letting go of Ed’s arm, and Ed rolled smoothly away, quickly trapping Lion Guy in a cage of concrete. He smirked, taking a step forward and preparing to begin his interrogation.

“Hold it.”

Ed turned to see that Cinder Flame had been pinned against the wall by what looked like mucus. The hero looked like he was about to throw up, keeping his mouth firmly closed inside the thick liquid that trapped him, and Ed struggled not to gag.

“Can you breathe?” he asked, and turned his attention to the frog when Cinder Flame nodded. “What the fuck even is that?”

“It’s the gift that Kimblee’s given me,” the frog said, smug. “And if you’ve got any sense, you’ll stay out of his way.”

“Bit late for that, don’t you think?” Ed replied, and then gestured to where the lion was trapped, clutching his shoulder, “anyway, it seems like we’re at a stalemate.”

“Don’t count on it,” the lion interrupted with gritted teeth, “That guy doesn’t give a shit about me - we’re all here for different reasons.”

“So, you’re not here because you worship the ground this ‘Kimblee’ walks on, then?” Ed asked, frowning, “you’ve changed your tune from last time.”

“Yeah, well, maybe he hadn’t been exactly clear on what the agreement consisted of before…” The lion muttered, and Ed folded his arms. _Interesting._

A foul smell filled the air and Ed’s attention shifted back towards the frog. Cinder Flame had burned his way out of the mucus, and was heading straight for his enemy with a dark scowl on his face. Cinder Flame raised his hand, snapping his fingers and Ed’s eyes widened.

“Wait!” he called, and Cinder Flame faltered, head angled towards Ed. He stumbled, the fire he had summoned shooting past the frog man, who yelped angrily. The frog threw himself to the floor, reaching out and gathering the pieces of the Bradley bomb before fleeing.

“You’re on your own this time, Heinkel,” he shouted behind him, “Kimblee doesn’t believe in third chances.”

Ed cursed, deciding not to waste time giving chase to the frog, and turned to see that the lion guy - Heinkel, apparently - had paled, seeming more affected by that threat than the blood loss.

“You know,” he began speculatively, “we could probably help you with that. Cinder Flame here’s got connections with the police force, I’m sure he can arrange for you to have some kind of protection.”

“You’d do that?” Heinkel asked, clearly desperate. Ed moved closer to Cinder Flame, kicking him in the shin.

“Sure…” Cinder Flame replied, reluctant, “At a price, of course. We need information.”

“Absolutely, anything!” Heinkel said, and Cinder Flame took a step forward, expression hardened. Ed laid a hand on his arm.

“Not now,” he said, and Cinder Flame looked at him, confused, “He needs medical attention.”

“But there’s a symbol -  ”

“It can wait,” Ed said firmly. “We treat our allies well, okay?”

Cinder Flame waited a long, tense moment before nodding.

“Call your boyfriend.”

“My what?”

“You know, the detective?” Cinder Flame continued to stare - or at least, Ed guessed he was staring behind the mask - at him, and Ed hastened to clarify. “It’s totally okay, you know. You were really close at the press conference, and when you said that thing about being ‘open’ afterwards, it wasn’t hard to figure things out. You’re really not subtle.”

Cinder Flame’s mouth dropped open. “No - he’s not - I mean I _am_ but - _Havoc?”_ The disgust was evident in Cinder Flame’s voice, and Ed began to wonder if he had misjudged and the guy was an arsehole after all, “I’m single. Interested in men, yes, but. Very single.”

Ed didn’t have time to respond before Cinder Flame turned away, reaching into his pocket for a phone and speaking into it in low tones. There was a pause as Cinder Flame held the phone slightly away from his ear, and Ed could hear the sounds of hysterical laughter through the speaker.

“He’s on his way,” Cinder Flame said. Ed released Heinkel from his stone cage, moving towards him to help stem the bleeding, and the three waited in awkward silence until the police car pulled into the alleyway. The detective from the press conference stepped out, cigarette between his lips and jacket open to reveal the gun in its holster. Heinkel nodded slightly when he saw him, shifting back into his human form as though accepting that the detective would be able to protect him. The detective moved to where Cinder Flame was stood, slinging an arm over his shoulder and leaning in, obviously trying to smother his laughter.

“Hey, babe,” Havoc said, completely deadpan for two seconds, and then burst out laughing as Cinder Flame continued to scowl. Seeing them now, Ed didn’t know why he’d ever thought they’d be together.

“Get off me,” Cinder Flame said through gritted teeth, leaning purposefully away from his friend. “You have a job to do, remember?” Beside Ed, Heinkel groaned, and Havoc snapped to attention.

“Right, right,” Havoc moved to where Heinkel was sitting, helping the man stand, “This guy’s going straight to the hospital, I’ll be with him the whole time, the usual drill. And don’t worry, I’ll remember to ask him about the Ouroboros thing.”

_Ouroboros?_

Cinder Flame nodded stiffly, and Ed helped Heinkel into the back of the police car. Havoc moved around to the driver’s seat, leaning on the roof of the car and stubbing out his cigarette before getting in.

“Call me!” he said as a parting shot, giving Cinder Flame a flirtatious wave as he sped off towards the hospital. Cinder Flame sighed.

“You see what you’ve done?” He said to Ed, who held up his hands in defense.

“Hey, you didn’t have to tell him!”

**

Mustang had been hovering for ages now, and Ed’s fuse was getting shorter by the second. It seemed like being around him had become Mustang’s new favourite pastime, although Ed didn’t know what he was trying to achieve by being there. “You really don’t have to just hang around, you know,” he said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t know,” Mustang said with amusement, “I’m quite enjoying watching you work.”

“Heh, ‘watching’,” Ed said.

Roy sighed. “Nothing slips past you, does it?”

“I’m just pointing out inaccuracies in your speech,” Ed replied, sticking out his tongue in concentration as he wrote out another equation. “You’re a lawyer, isn’t that part of your gig?”

“If I were to act as if I were always in a courtroom, my life would be very sad,” Mustang said. “And full of arguments.”

“Not much change, then.”

Mustang huffed, and Ed returned to his work.

The next time he resurfaced, Mustang had set a cup of coffee down next to him, and it was still warm enough to drink. “Cheers, pal,” Ed said, surprised.

“How is your friend - Ling, was it?” Roy asked, and Ed almost choked on his coffee.

“Fine,” he said, once he wasn’t in danger of asphyxiating. “Why do you ask?”

“I was just wondering,” Roy said. “He sounds like an interesting character.”

“Yeah, he’s always getting mixed up in stuff - and leaving me with the mess, usually,” Ed grumbled.

Roy sipped his own coffee thoughtfully, about to say something when his phone rang. He excused himself, retreating to the hallway to answer it - Ed shrugged and turned back to his equations.

“Brother?” Al touched his shoulder briefly. “Was Roy here again?”

Ed looked around, but Mustang was gone, his coffee cup the only evidence he’d been there. “Uh, yeah,” he said, rolling his shoulders. “He didn’t want anything in particular. He keeps just hanging around, doesn’t he? Strange.”

“Weird,” Al said, amused. “Give me your cup, I’ll wash it out.”

“Give me a refill, I wanna finish this tonight,” Ed said, and tapped his pencil impatiently against his right arm while waiting for Al to come back.

“You’ve stopped covering it up,” Al commented as he set Ed’s coffee down on the table, nodding towards the arm. “You used to always cover it up when we had guests.”

“Yeah, well,” Ed said, his ears growing red, “he’s _blind,_ it’s not like he’s going to see it.”

Al raised his eyebrows, smile growing wider.

“Oh, piss off.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

>  _nowt_ \- nothing  
>  _bellend_ \- general insult  
>  _get wrong_ \- get in trouble  
>  _kip_ \- sleep  
>  _pasties_ are savoury, baked pastries.
> 
> if all goes according to plan, the next chapter should be up in a week or two! there will be updates on tumblr, if you can't or won't subscribe here. kastron is on tumblr as [arotsukki](http://arotsukki.tumblr.com), and keptein is [asexualtobio](http://asexualtobio.tumblr.com). come talk to us! (we need more fma friends.)
> 
> minor edits have been made to this chapter after initial publication - nothing that would leave you confused if not rereading it before reading chapter 2, but some of the relations and situations are a bit clearer now. thanks, [zeffy](http://syncytio.tumblr.com)!


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